Harry Me?
by BluAsh54
Summary: I was a normal child... Once. Then a freak accident happened and I was in the Harry Potter universe... As Harry Potter. Die, Voldemort! Poweful!Super!OC!Harry
1. Introduction: Not in Kansas

**Hello and welcome to this story! I'm BluAsh54, and I don't own Harry Potter.** **Enjoy!**

 _A face. Not a handsome face, not an ugly face; But a very scary face. Stark white. With the intent to kill._

 _A flash of green._

 _"NO! Take me instead!"_

 _Another flash of green._

 _Cold laughter._

 _A flash of purple._

XxXxX

I sat up, panting. Well, tried to up, but hit my head on a beam.

In a very small, dark space.

Not my bed.


	2. Book One: Stranger Things

**You have made it to the second chapter of this ridiculous story! Congradulations!**

My hand groped in the dark, but it was only a few seconds before I found a light. I clicked it on.

There was a very large, very creepy, and very _spidery_ spider in front of my face.

A very high pitched scream permeated the house. My own. I scrambled toward the only thing that looked like a door, wrenched it open.

The first thing I noticed was that everything was much larger than I rememered.

The second was that this was not my house.

I looked down the hallway and saw a door; to my relief, it was a bathroom. I looked in the mirror. I was presented with my face, but from when I was about 11 years old, but I also had a very strange, lightning-shaped scar on my forehead. Everything else, however, was the same. Same brown hair, same hazel eyes, same gorgeous face... with 11 year old pudginess, of course.

I was still Michael, the 16-turned-11 ladykiller. Well, boy that a more than normal amount of girls fawned over, at least.

"BOY!" Came the startling shout. My head hit the doorframe.

Rubbing my head, I yelled back at whoever that was, "What?! What do want?"

Apparently the wrong answer, however, as massive thumps came down the stairs, and the massive man who appeared grabbed my shirt collar and pulled my face right up to his.

Bad move. I knew marshall arts, and did not like people getting in my face.

The fat man with no neck cradled his wrist, having removed it from my person as I delivered pain unto it.

I smorked at the man, before I realized something.

I was now eleven, with a fat _british_ man _with no neck_ in front of me, and most importantly...

 _I had a lightning scar on my forehead._

Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?! I'm Harry Potter?!

Vernon, who I now assumed that is who that was, took the startled realization on my face as regret and reached for me again.

With a thought, he flew across the hall. So accidental magic does respond to will. Not so accidental, then.

I smirked, harder, and more evilly at Vernon, who was now looking very scared indeed.

My fist lit up as it was engulfed in flashes of lightning, though they didn't spread and my hand didn't burn up.

I gave the disgusting man a little shock, then spoke.

"Am I Harry James Potter?"

For a second, he had a dumbfounded look on his face, not expecting that specific question; but upon a throeatening step from myself, he nodded, an expression of mixed hate and fear on his face.

Well, that sorted that.

"Stay where you are," I commanded, then turned to look in what I now knew to be the cupboard.

I was shocked to find my old school backpack there. It was black, with white seams and corners, the same as when I last had it, but when I opened the main pouch, it was much larger on the inside. It haso had steps leading down into a well-lit living room-like area. Closing that pouch, not quite sure of what I had just seen, I opened the the next, medium sized pouch. It was bottomless, and I couldn't see anything except for a small 2 inch by 3 inch booklet. Opening it, it explained that if I focused will on having something while sticking my hand in the pouch, it would come- except for food. Closing the Bottomless pouch, even more confused, I opened the third and smallest pouch, much like the medium, except it summoned food.

Closing and putting on the impossible backpack, I discovered that underneath the sleeping bag, there was a large burn mark that looked like a person.

Satified with my search, I pulled my head out of the cupboard, when I head the mailman come by and put the mail in the door through the flap.

 _That must be the acceptance letter,_ I thought. Sure enough, when I looked, there was the letter, addresed to Harry James Potter, Number 4, Privet drive, cupboard under the stairs.

I walked out the door, not looking back.

 **XxXxX**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbldore was very busy.

Now, this was not the stressful kind of busy, nor the unpleasant kind; in fact, he was rather enjoying it; for he was preparing the castle to be habitable, again. It was a nice distraction from the troubles in life. There was much to do; remove dust from the many floors, disloging any nasties that had taken up residence in the unused common rooms; stocking the kitchens, and getting the next DADA teacher settled in. He had just taken a small break in his office, when Poppy came in informing him one of the teachers had recieved a doxie bite.

However, when his Amanctovambular started gives off red smoke, he had to ask her to leave and take care of it, because that meant the wards around Privet Drive, 4, had collapsed.

Then his habneptable started exploding. Someone had managed to somehow make it past the anti-aparation wards.

And an 11 year old boy with a lightning scar appeared.

 **XxXxX**

Being able to teleport was certainly coming in handy. Especially when you can even teleport past the Hogwarts wards. So much fun!

The look on the Headmaster's face was priceless, too. So priceless, I pulled a camera from the bag, and snapped a picture.

I had come to make sure Dumbldore didn't make the mistake of thinking I was, actually, Harry Potter; rather, I wanted to sort out the horcruxes nice and snappy. I had already taken care of the part in... my... scar, but I hadn't gotten the others. I decided the easiest way was to simply take care of the horcruxes, but I didn't want to give the old man a heart attack.

I simply took all seven books from my backpack, set them on his desk, and teleported (not disaparated) out of Hogwarts.

 **XxXxX**

 **Apologies for the shortness of the chapter! They will, hopefully, get longer after chapter four.**


	3. Book One: Introductions

**Hello! Strait to the point, this chapter is not supposed to be very 'Sirius'!... But things will probably get very out of hand eventually!**

While I waited for Dumbledore to read through all the books and the note I left explaining the situation, I decided that the first thing I would need to do would be to get Wormtail and free Sirius. Fortunately, this would be easily done, as the Weasle residence was not warded or protected in any way; in fact, I resolved to take care of that problem as soon as I took care of the Pettigrew situation.

All that was required would be to turn invisible, walk to Ron's room, and find the Rat. Simple? You bet... until you realize that the Burrow was described as 'ramshackle' in the books for a reason. Therefore, it was not an easy feat to get through their dining room without knocking over anything (I had, unfortunately, always had a curiously Tonks- like clumsyness) or stepping on a sqeaky floor board, or, indeed, from making any noise at all. After that, I would then have to find the stairs, then actually find Ron's room, as the only clue I had was that it was towards the top.

As I appeared on the property, the first thing I noticed was the hieght of the building. Then I noticed that there was no way that it would ever have passed most, if any, of the safety checks performed on any home before it was sold. It was definitely only being held together by magic. Then I pulled out a pair of wireless earbuds from the pack, and just willed them to play any song in particular.

 **BGM: Funhouse: Aaron Daniel Jacob**

Right. Of course. That _would_ play.

As I stepped past the boots and phased through the no doubt locked wall, the lyrics actually matched different things I noticed as I went through the house. Fortunately, It was a short song, so the song ended by the time I made it past the first set of stairs; ( **BGM end** ) it was also at that moment that I smacked myself in the head and forced all the stairs quiet. Another song that I like played, though it did not match reality as Funhouse did.

And that was when I made myself unable to make noise, sat on the stairs, and cried.

Cried for the family lost.

The friends.

 _My life._

Gone. And I would never make it back. Oh, I tried; It was the one thong that I couldn't will into existence/nonexistence. It was gone.

However, luck chose that moment to betray me; one of the Weasleys opened their door, and would have tripped over me, had I not turned intangible (because it felt so awesome to be able to say that). It was a girl, and I assumed she must have been Ginny. She most definitely had red hair, though that was to be suspected, but that was all I saw before she turned a corner.

I continued up the stairs.

halfway through the next set of stairs, I realized that I felt a breeze; but there was no window, and no vent. The house must have needed circulation, and magic was the best way to do it.

I poked my head through the next door (literally) and discovered what must have been Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room. I pulled my head out and simply floated upward to the next room, avoiding the need to use my legs completely. The next door was Percy's, as the room was so neat it could not have been anyone else; that, and the fact that an older boy who was not 10 or 11, but more likely more about 15 or so was still sleeping.

I contiued like this until I found Ron's room. I quickly darted in. The one problem, however, was that there was _no rat_. Not in the closet, under the bed, on the table, nowhere. It clicked that Percy must still have it. I hurried to his room and quickly found the wretched man/rodent sleeping in a box in the closet. I made sure he would not wake for a few hours, then turned him and his box into a slip of paper that read 'PETTIGREW'.

Feeling slightly guilty for stealing from the Weasleys, though for a good cause, I went to Gringotts (invisible, silent, and undetectable), found their vault through will, and adding a good seven inch stack of galleons six feet wide and nine feet deep. I left 'gotts, 'retrieved' my vault key (willed it to appear in my hand), and walked back in undisguised. I walked straight up to the goblin at the podium.

"My name is Harry Potter. Here is my vault key. I want to buy a house," I said.

The goblin appeared to grimace and sneer at the same time. "You will need to be more specific..." he stared at the key a moment, "Mr. Potter."

"At least 2,000 square feet, with 2 bedrooms, a bath, a kitchen, a living room, and a fireplace hooked up to floo and made password protected," I stated.

"Very well," the goblin drawled, "We will send you a letter when we have finished. Is this all?"

"No," I replied, "I would like 200 galleons from my vault as well."

It was quite likely that none of that entire interaction had worked out, but I had willed them to belive I was qualified to do what I had done.

Then I really left Gringotts.

Looking at my watch, I found that only an hour had elapsed. I decided to go to the Magical Menagerie and get a cat.

 **XxXxX**

2 hours later, I emerged with a half kneazle, half cat; a tortishell that seemed pretty mild-mannered, unless andered. Her name was, I had decided, Butterknife, and was quite proud of myself. I also got Hedwig (was there any dought), and was pleasantly surprised at her intelligence. I was sure all the magic had made her sentient. Butterknife was astonishingly smart as well. Then, because I wanted to, I pulled a lightsaber from my bag, and put it on the belt I was wearing. Then I decided to head into Ollivander's and get my wand.

Upon entrance, however, I discovered that Ollivander was turned away from me. He started talking as he turned around.

"Ah, yes, mister..." Ollivander interuppted himself as he looked at me, then finished, "...Potter?"

The last came almost as a question.

I tried to make my reply as vauge as possible, "I am known here as that, yes."

"Well," he started, completely losing his mystic air, "I suppose you are here for a wand?"

"Why, yes, yes I am," I replied.

 **XxXxX**

I walked out of the shop with a yew and phoenix core, slightly springy, 11 and a half inches.

Needless to say, I was surprised. My wand was still the twin to Voldemort's... It was just different. So I went to the ice cream shop and ordered a massive amount of different chocolate flavors, and course, combined them. In a bowl.

There were differences! Was it because of the Mysterious Force that brought me here? Some obscure fate/karma magic? I removed the wand from the holster I bought from Ollivander's and strapped to the underside of my left forearm, and stared at it. How could such a small thing be so confusing? It was was an enigma, this wand. And I was determined to crack the puzzle. All I needed was time.

At least, another time. It was getting late.

I decided to rent a bunk in the Leaky Cauldron. It was a sickly green color, with holes that must have been made by some type of rodent, it had obviously seen better days. With a quick direction of will, it became a nice, bright sky blue, and was good as new. I set my trunk (recently bought) down next to it, and laid down on the bed. I stuck in my earbuds, and waited for sleep.

 **XxXxX**

Dumbledore did consider himself wealthy by any means. If forced to it, however, he would admit that he most likely had more than most families of Hogwarts students. An obvious exception was Mr. Malfoy.

The school, Hogwarts, itself, had much more amassed funds than the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Malfoy, The Bones, to name a few. Therefore, Dumbledore had used these funds to provide the best protection wards in Britain.

The anti-apparation ward was one of these top-quality wards installed. And as a simple jinx was all it really took to trap someone, these wards should have been absolutely impregnable- at least, anyone trying to apparate.

So Dumbledore had been quite surprised when Harry Potter, of all people, had moved right through them as though he wasn't even there.

When wizards apparate, they do not, in reality, disappear from existense and reappear in a different location. Rather, their magic copresses their mass to about 4x the size of an atom, retains an 'imprint' of the person, and accelerates this extremely comressed person to the desired location, and restores their mass exactly as it was before.

This all happens in less than a fraction of a second.

This is also, however, the reason why it is so difficult to master... and how it is one splinches themselves. Quite simply, as their magic compresses them, it 'forgets' (for lack of a better term) about the splinched body part. It then reassembles the person without that same part. Also why hands and feet are splinched the most- they are furthest from the center pf mass.

Anti-apparation wards and jinxes, when aproached from the outside, act as a barrier, or shield, against the incoming apparator. When inside, however, there is a difference between the jinx and the ward- the quicker, less powerful jinx is unable to prevent the will of the hopeful apparator to compress them selves, so it does the only thing it can- it forces their magic to forget a large body part. The will of the apparator is then weaken by the splinching, and is no match for the jinx's inner wall. The ward, however, is much more powerful, and does not allow any type of compression to happen. This quality in wards was feared, at first, as the animagi process involved much compression of the user of the arcane art before the transformation, but as it turned out, the two methods were very different.

So Dumbledore was surprised indeed by Harry's sudden appearance, and jumped to the only logical conclusion: he did not apparate.

So consumed by his thoughts of what abstract, or indeed, newly invented form of magical transportation that the young wizard used, that it took him nearly fifteen minutes before he even noted the set of peculiar books and scribbled note on his desk. He then noticed the titles, and on each, in successive order, were the words: Year 1-7. Books of the future? No, that was not possible... and yet...

Dumbldore picked the note up first, and had to read it twice.

 _Dumbledore,_ it read,

 _In this reality, I am Harry Potter. Know that this is not my name. In my reality, this reality is a series of books, and while there are a few others, they are unimportant for now. The series I speak of are the books in a stack on your desk. It seems that I have replaced Harry Potter, or this is simply an alternate timeline to the series, in which I_ am _Harry Potter. Go ahead; read the books. That's what they're for._

 _P.S. Sirius is innocent. He, Pettigrew (who is still alive), and James were all Animagi to accompany Remus. Lily and James, at Sirius suggestion, switched their secret keeper to be pettigrew at last minute. Pettigrew is a rat. He was in the company of the Weasleys, but I have detained him. Now, READ THE BOOKS!_

Dumbldore chuckled at the triple exclamation marks, all the while thinking of reprecussions of this development., then, sighing, picked up the first book, read it, and moved down the stack.

 _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Year 1._ Perhaps it meant Philosopher's stone?

 _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Year 2._ So the legend was true.

 _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Year 3._ Sirius Black.

 _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Year 4._ The Triwizard Tournament?

 _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Year 5._ So his suspiscions had been true. Tom was not yet dead.

 _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Year 6._ Voldemort again?

 _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. Year 7._ Was Harry the Master of Death?

Dumbldore sent a message to a house elf to be prepared for deliveries of meals to his office, in much nicer words, of course, and settled back in his chair to read.

"Chapter One- The Boy Who Lived."

Yes, he was not coming out of this office until he finished... and by the looks of the neat print that was the same letter, and the thickness of the books, it would take Dumbledore a good couple of days.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet drive..."


End file.
